her fancier by
the time you're unearthed from this junk-heap."

Nelson wondered how Watson could make light of so gloomy a matter. He
took his own work very seriously, as most bankboys have to. Bill often
worried, but not about his work. When he changed pillows it was a
question of finance.

"Cheer up, Nelsy," he said, carelessly, "things always turn up.
Remember the old motto: 'It took Noah six hundred years to learn how to
build an ark; don't lose your grit.' I'll fish you out if you get too
far under water."

Evan was not fond of the idea of being fished out. He wanted to swim
unaided.

But he failed. All next day he worried over his "difference," giving a
start whenever one cent detached itself from an amount. In the evening
Bill called off the ledger to him. When they were nearing the end he
called an amount one cent wrong.

"What's that, what's that?" Evan repeated, excitedly.

Bill called it again, but rightly. He chuckled quietly for a little
space, greatly to Nelson's aggravation.

It was midnight the first of the month. The savings man struggled
alone with his balance; the desks swam around the office and figures
danced like devils before him.

"D--!" he muttered.

That was one of his first legitimate swear-words at Mt. Alban--but
others would come. The recording angel up above might as well open an
account first as last, for one more human being had entered a bank.

The front door jarred and some of the bankboys entered. Bill was not
quite sober, and one of his companions had, what he himself insisted
was, "about half a bun."

"Don't work all night, Nelsy," said Watson, "th-there's another d-day
coming."

"Sure, lots 'em," said the half-intoxicated one.

A teller from one of the other Mt. Alban banks extended a box of
cigarettes toward Nelson.

"No thanks!"

"By heck, it helps a fellow a whole lot when he's tired," said the
teller; "come on--just one."

Even felt fagged from hours of bootless labor. He hesitated, almost
stupidly, and the bankclerk pushed the box rapidly into his hand. He
figured it would be childish to refuse after that--and accepted his
first cigarette.

It did help him, for the moment. After a few puffs he began to be
amused at Bill's words and actions.

"Close up shop," said Bill, recklessly; "to ---- with honest endeavor."

"How much are you out?" asked the alien teller.

"One dirty little copper," said Bill, answering for his desk-mate.

"Let'